last couple of months kinda been a disaster
Content and comfortable in his skin enough to notice and also let Ashetta get a good long look, the courtesan’s smile he sends her way is gentle as it is playful. They don’t know each other, and that makes this interaction that much easier for the distraction of it. And while he doesn’t notice the scent of ozone immediately, there’d be no judgement from him, given how he himself is abandoned.
So, rather than make it all about those potentials of magic and whatever else might be lingering under the pretty stranger’s skin, he tilts his masked face toward her as she lifts her glass in return. “That’s the hope.” He admits with a playful grin, a twist that’s a bit more playful before he sips from his drink again, relishing the burn the flute of blackberry champagne has as it slips down his throat.
At her question, he chuckles a little. “Last minute invite, actually. That and I don’t really go an’ see the gods. Figured I’d do my best attempt.” He lifts a hand that sparkles with the few rings that sit on his fingers, the bones of his wrist shifting as hew wiggles his fingers to craft a little sparkle in the air above his hand from his illusion magic as if to explain just why he didn’t go and see the gods.
“What about you? Wait, lemme guess.” He turns more fully toward her, twisting in a way that has his posture quite flexible, giving her a good long and appreciative look up and down before he straightens and the smile he flashes her way is all confidence, suave, charisma. “Knives in the shadows?” He suggests, seeming relatively confident in her choice of dark blues with gold streaks, a flare of colors and sheerness that makes it so when she moves it seems like smoke trails behind her. It’s brilliant and beautiful, and Thorn has admired it long enough to notice the brief flash of knives strapped to her.
And if he didn’t know any better, he’d have zero qualms with calling her a wolf in the night.
So, rather than make it all about those potentials of magic and whatever else might be lingering under the pretty stranger’s skin, he tilts his masked face toward her as she lifts her glass in return. “That’s the hope.” He admits with a playful grin, a twist that’s a bit more playful before he sips from his drink again, relishing the burn the flute of blackberry champagne has as it slips down his throat.
At her question, he chuckles a little. “Last minute invite, actually. That and I don’t really go an’ see the gods. Figured I’d do my best attempt.” He lifts a hand that sparkles with the few rings that sit on his fingers, the bones of his wrist shifting as hew wiggles his fingers to craft a little sparkle in the air above his hand from his illusion magic as if to explain just why he didn’t go and see the gods.
“What about you? Wait, lemme guess.” He turns more fully toward her, twisting in a way that has his posture quite flexible, giving her a good long and appreciative look up and down before he straightens and the smile he flashes her way is all confidence, suave, charisma. “Knives in the shadows?” He suggests, seeming relatively confident in her choice of dark blues with gold streaks, a flare of colors and sheerness that makes it so when she moves it seems like smoke trails behind her. It’s brilliant and beautiful, and Thorn has admired it long enough to notice the brief flash of knives strapped to her.
And if he didn’t know any better, he’d have zero qualms with calling her a wolf in the night.
Hawthorn
tell all my friends i'm asleep if they ask ya
